


Solstice

by gauntTwister



Series: Solstice Trilogy [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, Holidays, human!Danny, lonesomeness and company, not really pitch-pearl but like. pitchpearl-adjacent? idk, warm feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28166307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gauntTwister/pseuds/gauntTwister
Summary: Under too much holiday-induced stress from home, Danny runs away; he finds himself in a cemetery occupied by an odd shadowy ghost that offers to help him get home.
Series: Solstice Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082936
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Solstice

Winter had officially rolled in that morning. Amity Park had all but shut down with the snow - after-school activities were canceled; the highways became skating rinks in the mid-morning sleet; even retailers began to close their doors for the afternoon to wait out the worst of the storm. Before five o'clock, when the sun would have set, the streets were vacant. Everyone, it seemed, had holed up at home.

Everyone except Danny. Nevermind the snow - he couldn't stand another minute in the house. His mother's accusing voice cut through his thoughts: _you'll never listen to reason, will you? Look at the facts, Jack!_ It wasn't directed at Danny, never had been, but he resented both of his parents for it nonetheless. December, to him, was wartime. It was _hey-Tuck-can-I-stay-the-weekend_ time and _please-Sam-I'll-do-anything-to-be-out-of-the-house_ time and _if-I-have-to-keep-putting-up-with-this-I'll-die_ time. When he wasn't home, at least he could hear himself think!

It wasn't fair. He hated how easily any conversation could - and did - slide into animosity, he hated the gnawing misery that crept up steadily from mid-November onwards (and that was if he was very lucky - one year the radio stations had all conspired to deliver tell-tale sleigh bells as early as October the twenty-first), and he hated now no one listened whenever he said he disliked the holidays. It was always _oh, but you've got to celebrate something, don't you?_ or _how can you be so sour at such a lovely time of year?_ or the affronted _but surely everyone loves Christmas!_ as if he'd stricken the event from the calendar simply by wishing it ill.

If only.

So, despite the snow and the cold, he'd trudged out to the Nasty Burger in the hope that it would still have been open, and in the hope that Sam and Tucker might still be there. It wasn't; they weren't; and after a moment of overwhelming frustration and despair he turned tail and ran. In that moment, he didn't care where he ended up, or how far away it was - all that mattered was that he left his _stupid_ house and his _stupid_ parents and their _stupid_ fight behind. _Forget the snow,_ the fire in his belly grumbled. _Forget the cold. Just run._

By the time he'd run out of breath, he'd made it as far as the bus station at the edge of town. He had a few bucks on him. Only one line was still running due to the snow, but he didn't care; he took it, ignoring the _rough night out there, isn't it?_ from the driver as he boarded, and collapsed into one of the seats in the back. He wondered how far he'd really have to go before he could escape the last echoes of his mother's voice. Even then, as the bus trundled sluggishly along, he could still hear her.

_It's not possible, Jack! Such a feat defies science! You can't be that foolish!_

How many years of it did they expect him to take?

By the time the bus dropped him off, he was numb. The doors creaked open, he shuffled out, and the cold bit him anew. It was dark now - how far had he gone, he wondered. The streets certainly looked the same. Had he ended up a town over? Three towns? Ten? Distance meant nothing in the rigid backseat; the bus doors closed behind him, and the thing lumbered off.

He was on his own.

The snow appeared to have let up somewhat. It fell not with icy malice but was fat-flaked and lazy, and the scene before him was silent save for a street-plow that rumbled from somewhere well out of sight.

_Isn't this what you wanted? to hear yourself think?_

His mind began to tick again, and the lonesomeness finally struck him. He really was on his own, without Sam or Tucker or even Jazz at his side, and the silence of the evening seemed to press in on him. _Go on,_ something in him whispered, _you wanted to be alone, didn't you? How long do you think before they'll even notice you're gone? Two or three days, maybe? Or do you suppose they'll only think twice on the twenty-sixth, after they've wrapped up?_

He hated to think that. Tears stung in the corners of his eyes, refusing to be dismissed by his palm or the back of his sleeve, and the tightness of pent-up anger gave way in an instant to a cold hard lump of misery. He really was alone.

Now what?

He turned to the road again. The bus had dropped him off near the edge of town, it seemed - how far was it back to Amity Park? Where had he ended up? He didn't remember which line he'd taken, just that it had been the only one available to him, and that it had gone what had seemed like a reasonable distance. _Great going, idiot._

He fished his phone out of the front pocket of his hoody. It didn't like the cold; it had been at 66% earlier that afternoon, but had steadily dripped down to 27% in the span of an hour or two, and it skipped right down to 16% even as he stared down at it. _You know no one's going to be able to come get you, right?_ said the sharp voice of loathing. _You think even the RV could handle the roads like this? and that's assuming Mom and Dad quit arguing long enough to even answer if you call home. . ._

He had to call anyway. He knew that much, even as his vision blurred around the edges and tears were freezing in the corners of his eyes. He slipped behind a line of shrubs to escape the wind, hit _Home,_ and tried to collect himself as he waited for anyone to pick up.

_Come on, please, I'm sorry. . ._

"Hello - ?"

"Mom? I'm so sorry please don't be mad I need you to - Mom?"

The phone died in his hand, but for a desperate moment he failed to process. "Mom. . . ?"

Something in him cracked, and he stared down at the device. The screen was dark, and failed to respond to his touch, but it felt as if he'd been purposefully abandoned. _Look what you've done. This is your fault. What are you gonna do now?_

He didn't have an answer for that one. _Don't stay out too late, kiddo, you'll freeze out there!_ He recalled his father saying that once when he and Tucker had gone out. That had been last year, in January after the fights were over and there was enough snow to go sledding. He remembered, too, that he'd had a second jacket then.

Would he really freeze?

He shoved the phone back into his pocket. It hadn't been quite so cold earlier - how long had he already been out? There had been daylight when he'd gotten on the bus. An hour, maybe two? That sounded about right. It always got dark early in December. Still, he'd have to find someplace to hole up. Nasty Burger, MacMeaty's, whatever - they'd still be open, probably, and they might even have a phone he could borrow to call home.

That, and he'd find out how far he'd gotten from Amity Park.

With an objective in mind now, he set off again. So long as he was moving, the cold didn't seem so bad. The storm had relented, at least, and it didn't look to have snowed as badly as it had back home - but, out of familiar territory, he was lost. With only one direction to go, he kept along the side of the road in the hope it would lead him into town.

The road took him through a stretch of trees, all heavy with snow and ice and bowing downwards, and he knew the rest of the town couldn't be too far ahead. The hazy yellow of the streetlights diffused into the sky somewhere to his left, and as soon as he spotted the path off the main road he took it. He hardly registered anything else until the pavement gave way to uneven dirt under the snow, and he paused. Not city streets but rather a cemetery sprawled out before him, but he only hesitated for a second before treading onwards, ignoring his own superstitions. Graveyard, went his mind blankly in an effort to get the word to stick to something. It didn't.

The breeze shifted suddenly, and Danny stopped. It wasn't that the snow was going to pick up again - it had quit for the moment - but something was so awfully and so suddenly _wrong_ that, for one perplexing instant, he was pulled out of coherent thought altogether.

Graveyard finally stuck.

Danny turned about himself. The only tracks in the snow were his, and without the snowfall everything around him was perfectly still. Why, then, could he so clearly feel the eyes upon him? Where were they coming from? He found himself looking down - _have you stepped on someone?_ \- but could discern nothing from the blanket of white beneath him. It was bad luck, he'd been told once, to tread on a body at rest. Had he just done that? He stepped back as if he had, although he couldn't really tell for sure. "Sorry," he mumbled, as if it was adequate, and felt stupid. _Look at you by yourself in the dark, apologizing to someone who's already dead, who you probably didn't even step on anyhow. What, like they're going to care?_

Ghosts, Danny knew, weren't real. That was a fact in his mind. Both of his parents had been ghosthunters for their entire careers, as far as he was aware, and neither one of them had actually seen one. If the anomalies did exist, surely one would have been caught by now?

What manifested before him, however, looked very much like how he expected a ghost to look. It appeared, suddenly but without a sound, on one of the headstones still visible under the snow. Its body was cast predominantly in shadow except for two bright green eyes which were most definitely affixed on him. It was vaguely human-shaped, although Danny had to squint a little to see it; it peered out at him from behind the stone, or at least that was what he thought it looked like it was doing, and when he stared it shrank back.

Ghost, went Danny's mind, and the sentiment stuck the first time. It couldn't have been real, and yet it was exactly like every explanation his parents had ever given him. Great. What did it want, though?

The spirit - if that was what it really was - stared back in equal silence. Danny hadn't fled; emboldened somewhat, it crept upwards to peer over the top of the tombstone rather than around its side. Its body remained mostly in shadow, and only when it moved were the white wisps of its fingers and hair visible against the backdrop of snow. It grasped the corner of the stone, as if looking over a tall countertop, and was still again. After a moment of deliberation, it finally spoke: _(Lost?)_

Danny just stared. What could he reasonably expect to tell it - that he'd come out here by himself to get away from his parents and that he couldn't get back home? Nevermind, for the moment, that this was a genuine ghost, and he'd been told all his life that it was dangerous. "What?"

 _(You didn't run)_ said the ghost, almost optimistically, eyes still on Danny. _(How come?)_

Danny stiffened. "Hey, wait a sec, what's it to you, anyway? Are you even real?"

The shadow slumped, and the eyes fell. _(Yeah)_

A small part of Danny was surprised at how instantly he accepted that answer - then again, he'd been taught since infancy that the anomalies were real, and had only really rejected the idea out of spite - but that led to pricklier questions. If they were _real,_ they were also _dangerous,_ and he was acutely aware that he was on his own. "What do you want? Don't you have anyplace better to go terrorize - ?"

The spirit met his gaze again. _(Terrorize? Why would I - ?)_

"Because," said Danny, although he wasn't exactly sure. "That's what ghosts do. Probably. I don't know. Look, no offense, or maybe some offense, but I didn't come here for you to show up and go boo."

_(Then what did you come here for?)_

"Hey, that's none of your business," Danny snapped, refusing to acknowledge exactly how ridiculous it was that he was in a graveyard at night starting an argument with a real ghost. "Go away."

The apparition's eyes flashed. _(Why don't you go away? This is my place. I was here first)_

"Fine. Whatever." Danny jammed his hands an extra inch into his pockets, shoving the encoraching chill away and turning to stomp across to the other side of the graveyard. From somwehere beyond the trees, the rumble of the snow-plow came and went.

The ghost, on the other hand, seemed to change its mind. _(Wait, I didn't mean it - don't go)_

Despite himself - _you wanna freeze out here?_ \- Danny turned.

The shadowy spirit wafted up from its place by the headstone and floated closer. In the air, Danny could make out the suggestion of its limbs, and the white fog of its hands and feet, but even when it faced him he couldn't distinguish any sort of face beyond the eyes. _(Please stay)_

Danny wanted to run. Everything his parents had told him about ghosts was parading through his mind - _they're mean, kiddo! you don't wanna face one down by yourself!_ \- and it had finally dawned on him what might happen if he didn't get into town. Despite that, he found he couldn't run. The spirit sounded desperate. _Probably because it'll get your guard down and then tear you apart,_ snapped the relentless voice of his mother, but he pushed it away. What if it really was desperate? What if it needed his help?

What if it wanted to rip him to shreds instead?

The spirit's eyes dimmed, as if perhaps it was thinking about something, and when asked its voice was slow and careful. _(You're not okay, are you?)_

Danny frowned. "How do you know that?"

 _(You didn't run)_ said the ghost, _(everyone runs)_

"Yeah, and maybe both my parents are ghosthunters," said Danny, as if that might dissuade it if it decided at any point to attack him, "Maybe you'd better leave me alone."

_(You think I'm going to haunt you)_

"I'm supposed to think you're not? I don't know you - _didn't_ know you - ugh, you know what I meant. You're dead. I'm not. Ghosts haunt people. That's kinda their thing. Why are we even having this conversation? I told you to leave me alone."

The ghost went silent for a moment. It slunk down onto the snow, huddling a little tighter against itself as if wrapping its arms against its knees. _(I guess I thought maybe since you didn't run you wouldn't be scared of me. I just wanted someone to talk to)_

"Don't you have - oh I don't know - other ghosts or something for that?"

_(They moved)_

"Moved?"

_(On)_

Danny bit his tongue. The loneliness struck him again, just as mercilessly as it had before, only this time it wasn't his own. All of a sudden he felt foolish - _you think you're the only one that's by himself?_ \- and he let all his breath out in a prolonged puff. "You're the only one left here, aren't you?"

The spirit nodded; despite that it only barely held a coherent form, the motion was clear.

"You're lonely."

 _(Aren't you?)_  


Danny hesitated. _Of course you are. Lonely, lost, and real stupid. And let's not forget you did it to yourself._ He turned, dashing a palm under his eyes as if the ghost wouldn't have seen it. "Maybe."

_(Just maybe?)_

"Yeah," said Danny, meaning to snap although there was little anger he could muster. "You heard me. Look at you, asking me all these questions - who even are you, anyway?"

 _(Just a phantom)_ said the phantom, glancing back at the headstone from behind which it had manifested, (name's long gone)

"Just a phantom," Danny echoed, making the spike in his chest twist. _You still wanna leave him here by himself?_ He couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't. Nevermind the cold - he wasn't going to abandon anybody that had no one left, even if it was someone who was already dead. "That's. . . that's really it, huh?"

 _(What about you?)_ the phantom asked, _(you're still kicking. You've got a name, don't you?)_

"It's Danny."

 _(Oh, I like that one)_ said the phantom brightly, sliding upwards a little, _(promise you'll stay?)_

"Yeah. I mean, maybe. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but - I'm kind of in huge trouble. With everything. Ugh, I'm so stupid - "

 _(Tell me about it)_ the phantom ventured, _(I mean, if you want to)_

Danny sat with a soft crunch in the snow. Once it started to come out, he found, it wasn't stinging quite so badly. "I guess I did it to myself. Maybe I thought I wanted to be on my own, I mean I can't just keep listening to them _argue_ like that, so I left, I thought it'd be easier, maybe it doesn't matter, but now I can't get back and it's so cold and it's my own fault I'm so stupid and - "

_(I don't think you're stupid)_

"Look at me. I'm sitting here, in a graveyard, in the dark, talking to a _ghost_ about my problems," said Danny, one sob coming out instead as a sardonic laugh. "Sounds pretty stupid to me."

The phantom considered. After a moment it slid over to sit next to him, and its eyes brightened. _(I don't think it counts unless you can't fix it)_

"What are you talking about?"

_(You're still breathing, aren't you?)_

Danny felt like he'd struck a nerve. "I didn't mean it like that."

The phantom's eyes turned upwards. The snow had started up again; even in the past few minutes it had dusted Danny's hoody with white, but relented seemingly at the phantom's command. _(Ice core)_ was the only explanation it offered, and its eyes turned up in what Danny could only assume to be a smile.

"You did that," said Danny, who was a second slower to process, "How'd you - ? I didn't know you could do that - "

The phantom nodded slowly. _(It's just for a few seconds at a time, usually. Closer to the solstice, though, sometimes I get a little leeway. Longer nights, or something like that? I never looked into it)_

"Huh."

The phantom rose abruptly, turning back and offering one wispy hand to Danny. _(Can I show you something real quick? Before the snow starts back up?)_

Danny took the hand and flinched. The sensation was intangible but like ice, and he swore his fingers were going numb even as the phantom pulled him up to his feet. "Where are we going?"

The phantom kept Danny's hand. It floated higher, pulling him off the ground; he yelped, wide eyes darting back up to the shadow in the air, and his grip tightened.

_(Don't let go, okay?)_

Danny wouldn't dare. "What are you _doing - ?"_

The phantom was smiling again, but wouldn't answer. They both ascended over the ice-white treetops, and all of a sudden the town unfolded before them through the yellow-white haze. _(You said you were lost)_ said the phantom, _(didn't you? Lost and lonely. I wanted to help)_

Danny was silent. His mind had all but ground to a halt - the first time he'd ever seen a ghost, and the ghost had just plucked him up off the ground with no effort whatsoever. _I wanted to help,_ it said. Weren't spirits like that supposed to do the opposite?

The phantom turned back to the town beyond the cemetery. _(There's houses over on that side)_ it said helpfully, pointing with its free hand, _(you think one of them's yours?)_

"Well, I. . . " Danny forced his mind back into focus again, once he was _very_ certain he wouldn't fall. He kept the phantom's hand tightly in his own, knowing that was the only thing keeping him up, and finally looked out across the rooftops and streets below. "No," he said, "They're not. Look, I. . . "

_(Oh jeez this is too much isn't it)_

"No it's not that - I mean, don't get me wrong, this wasn't what I was expecting to be doing tonight, it's kinda out-there, but - "

_(I'm so sorry I swear I just wanted to help)_

"Hey wait - no don't go down yet - you really can see pretty far from up here, can't you," Danny scanned the streets below, hoping to spot someplace that was still open. The cold was getting to him, especially up in the open air - he couldn't quit shivering, and his fingers and nose had gone all but numb. Even his lips had begun to resist movement, and he had to be careful to articulate when he spoke. "I came in from that way," he spotted the road the bus had taken when he'd been dropped off, and gestured vaguely in that direction. "Don't suppose you know how far Amity Park is from here?"

 _(You're cold)_ said the phantom, and despite its efforts the snowfall was drifting down again.

"Well, yeah," said Danny, "But look, you can see - hey wait don't - "

The phantom descended, taking Danny down too. _(Oh, man, you're still kicking, I'm sorry)_ They both landed at the side of the cemetery, and the phantom took its ice-cold hand from Danny's. _(Look at you. I'm so sorry, that was my fault. You have to be careful - when you're alive, I mean, stuff can happen, you know - )_

"Hey, quit freaking out," said Danny, "I'm fine. So what if it's snowing, now at least I know how far the town is - "

_(Yeah but I don't wanna see you freeze out here! Not on account of me, anyhow)_

"Wait," said Danny, and asked before he could stop himself, "Wait, is that - that's how you - _well, you know_ \- isn't it?"

The phantom didn't answer. Its eyes slid pointedly away from his, opting instead to stare through the snow-laden trees. The street-plow came and went beyond them, and the snowfall shifted in the breeze.

Now he'd gone and done it. "I'm sorry." He let his breath out all at once, shuffling one foot in a halfhearted effort to retain feeling in it. "I guess I shouldn't have asked you that. Please don't be mad."

_(You're really far from home, aren't you)_

Danny knew not to press it. He sighed. "Yeah. I am. I really screwed up this time. Look, I get you wanted to help me out and all, but. I don't think this is something you can just fix, you know?"

 _(You're having troubles at home)_ said the phantom, _(I think. That was what you said earlier, wasn't it? That's why you came all the way here)_

Danny nodded again. "Yeah. My parents have this stupid fight every year, and I said I wasn't gonna let it get to me this time but of course it did anyway and like some kind of _moron_ I thought maybe getting away from it all would have been fine - "

 _(Well you're the first moron I've talked to in a long time)_ said the phantom helpfully, _(can't be that bad, right?)_

Danny took it. "Thanks. I guess."

_(Besides, you don't have to be out here all by yourself either. I think we both kind of win)_

Danny frowned. "Not sure that's how it works? If I didn't run away then none of this would have - "

_(Then you'd still be having a bad time, right? But at home. And if you hadn't come out here then I'd still be having a bad time too. Like I said. We both kind of win)_

"Well. I mean," Danny gave up. "Sure. Yeah."

_(And you'd be sad if I left now, wouldn't you?)_

"Yeah."

 _(Then I'm not going anywhere)_ said the phantom, and it smiled again. _(Consider yourself haunted)_

Despite himself, and despite everything that had happened, Danny laughed. Something in him released all at once; perhaps the coil of stress wound one tick too tight and snapped, or perhaps it was the realization that he _wasn't_ on his own, not really, not so long as the phantom hung around, even if it couldn't help him on a tangible level. Before he fully realized he'd meant to, he'd reached over and taken the phantom's hand again. "Thanks. I guess I really needed that."

The phantom just smiled back. _(You're really stuck with me now. How're you gonna get home otherwise? By yourself?)_

Danny was somber again in an instant. "I don't know. Busses back to Amity don't start up again until morning, probably. Phone's dead. Can't even ask anyone to come pick me up."

 _(Well)_ the phantom turned back to the town beyond the trees. _(Hm. Oh, hey, I wonder if some of the gas stations are twenty-four hours? Then you'd warm up, at least. Come on. You thought flying was cool? Check this out)_ and without waiting for an answer it rushed ahead, pulling him through the snow and frozen trees and shrubs as if none of them were really there at all - and it felt in that dizzying moment as if they _weren't_ there at all, and the next thing Danny knew was that they'd come out to the back parking lot of what looked to be a shut-down Denny's.

Danny was still reeling. "What'd you do?"

 _(Shared)_ said the phantom, _(thought it'd be faster than going around)_

"Yeah, but - " Danny paused, thought about it, and tried again: "I don't know, just - give me a heads-up next time, will you? Doesn't that make you sick, when you do that?"

The phantom gave him what he assumed to be a halfhearted shrug.

Danny let it drop and went ahead, following the sidewalk around the corner of the building and having a look down the road. "Streetlights all look the same to me. I'm guessing you know this town better than me." He shot a look back at the phantom, expecting it to take the lead.

The phantom swayed a little in place. _(The living don't really - you know, you don't see the dead wandering around most times, do you?)_

"What're you getting at? Wait - you're ditching me?"

 _(I'm just saying don't act all surprised)_ said the phantom. It was as if he was taking a deep breath; he materialized fully, finally allowing himself a face, and appeared in a simple black jacket and jeans. His eyes still carried their ethereal glint, but apart from that he appeared human - he shook his head briefly, sending his white hair flying, and then gave Danny a grin. _"I get leeway, remember?"_

"You're a showoff," said Danny, who had not known the phantom could manifest so clearly - _so that's what his face looks like_ \- and was not about to let him get off easy about it.

_"What, I gotta go around looking like an oil slick all the time? Give a guy some credit, will you? Besides, you know what'd happen if people saw a shadow like me on the loose? They'd call those parents of yours on business."_

Danny's gaze fell. "Right."

 _"C'mon,"_ the phantom took Danny's hand as he passed, and led the way into the streets. Danny noticed, after a moment, that he was the only one leaving footprints behind - he also appeared to be the only one exuding clouds with every breath. _That's because he's not breathing, stupid,_ he chided himself. _Duh._ Still, something just seemed _right_ about the phantom, and it wasn't only because it was the only other option to being on his own again.

For the life of him, though, he couldn't place the feeling.

The two of them stood in the parking lot outside the gas station. Sure enough, the lights inside were still on, and the sidewalk looked to have been shoveled fairly recently. That was probably for the best; the snow had gotten going in earnest, and Danny speculated it had probably caught up to them from Amity Park where the worst of it had been earlier. He trotted ahead, pausing with one hand on the door to turn back to the phantom. "You coming?"

 _"Yeah,"_ said the phantom, _"Just in time, too. You don't look so good. Told you you'd freeze."_

Danny ignored that last comment, and ignored the numbness from his feet and his fingers, and pulled the door open. The single clerk behind the register looked bored, and didn't give either of them a second look until Danny asked to borrow the phone. The clerk handed it to him, he took it with an awkward half-smile of thanks, and took a deep breath.

_You know you're gonna have to fess up, and you know it's probably Mom who's gonna answer._

_Let her, if it means I can go home._

It only rang once; sure enough, it was his mother.

"Mom," said Danny, daring himself to keep his composure. Despite his best efforts, his voice splintered and he was crying. "Mom, look - I'm okay, I just - "

"I promise I'm fine"

"I know"

"Can you and Dad come get me"

"Please"

"No, I'm with a friend"

"Yeah"

"Okay"

"Hi, Dad"

"Yeah"

"Yeah, I'm okay"

"No"

"Okay"

"Love you too."

* * *

"Phantom?"

The two of them sat on the curb, watching the snow and waiting for the RV to pull up. Danny's mother had ballparked forty-five minutes; his father had promised fifteen.

_"Yeah?"_

Danny steeled himself, knowing he probably wasn't going to get an answer he liked. "Don't suppose you'd wanna come back with me, would you?"

The phantom snorted. _"You kidding? Your parents are ghost hunters, man. You said so. No offense, or maybe some offense, but. Yikes."_

"Yeah," said Danny quietly, "Thought so."

The phantom was silent for a moment, but then shifted to lean back on his hands. _"You were right, though."_

"What?"

 _"Earlier,"_ said the phantom, _"When you asked how I died."_

Danny turned to him, opened his mouth to protest - _you shouldn't have to tell me that_ \- but the phantom put a hand up to keep him silent.

_"It went pretty much how you think it did. Real advice here - dying sucks. I don't know if it's like that for everybody, maybe I just wasn't lucky, but I didn't want you to end up like me."_

"Hey - are you okay?"

The phantom turned skyward, doing his best to blink away the tears that dared to creep up into the corners of his eyes, but after a fruitless minute he swiped at them with the back of his wrist anyhow. _"Look at this, you got me_ feeling _stuff, I can't believe it. I'm almost as much of a wreck as you now."_

"Hey," Danny protested halfheartedly, but he knew there was little he could say in his own defense. He really had been a wreck, and more-or-less everything that had happened the whole evening had been directly his own fault.

Still, he was glad that the phantom had stuck with him. He wondered what might have happened if he'd been alone all night - no, he had a fairly good idea of what might have happened, and he didn't want to think about it.

The phantom recomposed himself, and stood as an excuse to stretch out. _"Hey, s'that them?"_

Danny followed the phantom's gaze - sure enough, a double pair of headlights had turned onto the road, visible even through the haze of snow. He rose to his feet, turning back to the phantom and giving him a final smile. "Thanks," he said, "for sticking with me. I guess I owe you one."

The phantom had his arms around Danny in an instant. The motion was on impulse; it took them both a second to realize what had happened, and a second after that for the phantom to feel Danny's arms around him in return. _"Don't forget about me, I mean it."_

"I won't."

The headlights swerved into the lot, and the phantom faded into thin air. Danny was alone only for a moment before both of his parents burst out and immediately began to fuss. He let them; he knew he'd catch heat, but not until they got home, and he had until then to sort everything out.

 _I wanna see you again,_ he'd meant to say, but had been cut short, and now it was probably too late. He wondered, if he came back into town sometime, if the phantom would still be there. _You think he's got anything better to do?_ said something in him, but that part tugged opposite the part that insisted _why would he sit and wait around? just for you? aren't you a bit selfish to think that?_

Was he, really?

* * *

The phantom watched Danny go. _Ghosthunters_ had sit ill with him since the living boy had mentioned them, and he knew he didn't want to tangle with them. Who could blame him, really? He saw the kid off, and made sure he was alright. Now he could get back to. . .

. . . what, exactly?

Not much. That was what it amounted to. The phantom had, for most of the evening so far, been able to fend off the crushing loneliness of death. He'd gotten lucky - very lucky, considering that Danny hadn't fled at the sight of him, and luckier still that they'd gotten along. He should have counted it as a decent night. All had ended well.

The empty pit in his stomach, however, begged to differ.

Even if it had just been for one fleeting instant, just then, before he'd vanished into thin air so the hunters wouldn't have seen him, he'd felt _alive_ again. Maybe it was the solid warmth of a living body, or maybe it was the assurance that, in that moment, he wasn't on his own.

Now Danny was gone, fading with the taillights of the RV as it turned a corner and disappeared.

That pained him.

It pained him - _now you're back to the usual, and isn't it horrible?_ \- and it was too much. He'd never see Danny again.

_Why didn't you go too?_

He wished, beyond anything, that he could have gone, but he knew the hunters would have caught him if he'd dared to show his face. He'd seen them coming, and he'd vanished before they'd gotten so much of a glimpse of him. _Look at you. You let him slip through your fingers, and now he's gone._

There were plenty of reasons why, and _ghosthunters_ was only the first. _I've never been out of town; finding him again would be such a long shot; everything I have is here; besides, maybe he'll come back sometime; I don't even know how far it'll be._

Some small voice in his head grew sharp. _Quit making excuses. You're just afraid to go. What's keeping you here?_

That made the phantom pause. His grave had never been the most appealing place to hang out, but it was the only thing with his name on it (in theory, anyhow - a gang of vandals had seen to that once a few years back). What did he have left, then? A fancy rock, and maybe a couple of leftover bones?

_Why didn't you go? You're just scared, that's why. You thought you had it together? Guess what, you missed your chance, and you get to go back to being alone. You did it to yourself._

_You're a lot like him._

He'd turned down the only living being that had spoken to him in over a decade. How stupid was he? Couldn't he take it back?

_Quit making excuses._

He cast a glance skyward. _Amity Park,_ Danny had said. That must be where he lived - the phantom had never been there before. In life, he hadn't traveled much.

_Old habits die hard, I guess._

He ascended over the ice-covered trees and drifted for a moment in the air. With the height, he could see the town below, and he could see the cemetery where his grave and his dusty old carcass lay. _Who needs that old thing, anyway,_ he thought, eyes tracing the smooth road carved out in white between the trees. Danny had come in from that way. It wasn't much to go on.

_Wonder if I could fly all the way from here? Never done it. Might make it. Might not._

_You never know._

_This time of year - might get a little extra leeway._


End file.
